


Big Brother Instincts

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Big Brother Dean, Clueless Dean, Dean is an Idiot, Other, Sad Sammy, Self-Harm, hints of self-harm, season 10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-24 01:38:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19163167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: When Sammy tells Dean not to go into his room while he’s gone, of course that’s the first thing Dean is going to do.





	Big Brother Instincts

He wouldn’t have done it had Sam not said anything. It’s just that, as soon as the words “Don’t go into my room” exited his mouth, Deans big-brother instincts kicked in and he had to go in.

So he nodded at Sam that ‘yeah, I won’t go through your stuff’ and he waited five minutes once Sam was out the door.

1 minute

2 minutes

3 minutes

4 minutes...

And he was out of his chair and racing down the twisted corridors to his baby-brothers room.

Unlike Dean, Sam hadn’t really moved in. He had more just... placed his clothes in the wardrobe and his pillows on the bed. Dean, however, had made sure his pictures were hanging up; his bed covered with fluffy blankets; his posters covering pieces of chipped wall. He had made the bunker his home. Sam had just... not... done that...

His room was exactly the same as every other time Dean had been in it. Empty.  
Still he paraded through the door and began snooping around. He studied his brothers toothbrush- a blue piece of plastic that now smelt like Deans B.O; he flitted through the books on his side-table, copies such as The Great Gatsby and, Pride, Prejudice and Zombies laying with worn covers and ripped pages.

It was only when he came across one of his drawers- one that just so happened to be locked- that he grew excited.

Yahtzee, He thought, imaging hoards of magazines with hot shirtless babes and bikini models.

When he picked the lock, he wasn’t expecting rusted razor blades and packets of bandaids, nor was he expecting the rust to actually be old, crusted blood. 

His brows furrowed.

Why on earth was the drawer locked? What was so important about shaving his bloody beard that he needed to lock the drawer?

It never clicked in him as to question why the blades were bloody.

And it sure as hell never clicked to check his brothers arms.

**Author's Note:**

> Short and sweet.


End file.
